The Covenant of Cleansing [Viskyia, Striker please; open]

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

Third darkening of Ponutis, Era 14 PF

Mid-darkening. The rooster cooed softly as the girl pulled it out of its cage. With Paxia still rebuilding, even finding the basic supplies for the rituals had taken her some effort, but she had dealt with it while Viskyia was running her own errands. That Amelia had plans for her visit here had been clear from the start; now they would be coming to fruition, and just like the jeweler had come to bring relief to the living souls of Paxia, so did the Adjurator wish to help the restless dead to their slumber. The delicate balance between life and death had been disrupted here; Amelia could feel it on her skin, as she walked and breathed. She felt watched by those who lingered. As she had been told, about one in a thousand normally stayed on as a ghost, but the ratio was clearly higher in the event of violent deaths. Their numbers in Paxia were probably nothing short of staggering, continuing in death the last war that had waged in life.

"Do not step out of the circle, Vis," the girl whispered a warning to her friend. They stood in the middle of a circle of salt, in a quiet quadrant of what had been one of Paxia's busy market squares; now, nothing more than a clearing surrounded by rubble and sad remains of skeletal buildings. They had avoided the Orc-infested quarters, but for obvious reasons they had chosen a rather abandoned place for this ritual. Three candles burned shyly, arranged on the outside of the circle to form a triangle. Three more candles were on the inside of it, forming another triangle pointing the opposite way. Amelia's hat and umbrella rested nearby. "Thanks for being here... I'm not sure I can do this alone. There is so much hate, so much pain, it seems to be exuding from the rubble. As long as the souls of the dead roam this place to do battle with each other, there will be no peace for the living, either."

Three bowls of steaming food rested outside the protective circle, inviting the ghosts and spirits of Paxia. How many of them would answer her call, Amelia did not know, but she would have to talk to them and convince them to move on. That was the beauty of the craft - so much could be accomplished by just talking, bartering, negotiating. Amelia was fully aware that she might be attracting ghosts from both sides of the conflict; they both needed to be put to rest. She was wearing simple clothes, as well, and it would soon became clear why. She began by proclaiming her invocation.

"Et qui reliquerunt vitam
ab Lege Ordine Iustitiaque
semper adstringuntur.
Ioannis in sanctimonia nominis,
ego vos convoco, Lemures Paxiani!"(*)

She stood there and plunged a knife into the rooster. Then she pulled down and disemboweled it, accepting the sprayed blood on her face and body without a flinch. She licked her lips, slowly, tasting the metallic flavor of blood and letting it linger on her split tongue, and threw the dead rooster out of the circle, next to the bowls of Ambrosia, food offered to appease the dead. Viskyia had been given Vision water if she so wished, but Amelia doubted the half-Esh would be needing it. Death here was strong enough to manifest itself for everyone to see.

And now, blue eyes flashed with anxiety as Amelia gave Viskyia a look basically telling her that the die was cast. The sacred duty of harmonizing the living and the dead had begun, though things may get rough at some point and this was precisely why the two of them were inside a protective circle. There, in those few, precious square meters, the witch ruled as Empress.


(*) Even those who abandoned life are always bound by Law, Order, and Justice. By Ioannes' sacred name, I summon you, Paxian ghosts!

[Adelyn Weiss]

As of late Adelyn had taken to walking around Paxia, even the deserted areas no one would care to explore. It had been her first brightening at work as Assistant Aedile and she found that walking around, especially while dark, calmed her nerves and cleared her head. Lost in thought and formulating ideas, the girl had no idea how far she had walked or even in which direction. Shivers ran down her spine as the cold of Spring settled in.

In the distance she heard a rooster cooing, an odd sound considering the time. Adelyn stopped dead in her tracks, feeling just a bit lost now. Everything had a tendency to look different at night and the girl now knew she had no idea where she had walked off to, and the dangers it could mean. Despite her intuitions, she walked forward in the direction of the sound asking, "Is someone there?" in a quiet meek voice.

She peeked over from where the noise was coming from only to see a woman sprayed in blood, with what looked like an evil grin on her face, though the moonlight does play its tricks on the mind. Even more shocking to Adelyn was that Viskyia, her friend from Nexus Prime, was near the girl, accepting what had just been done.

Quickly, Adelyn revealed herself from her hidden location behind some bushes and moved onto the clearing in plain sight of both women. Suddenly she felt terribly out of place and unfortunate to have run into this ritual of sorts. With her emerald eyes Adelyn took in the sight as fast she could trying to keep her eyes on the blood-stained woman. Bowls of food were on the ground as were strange shapes, like a barrier.

What would come next was uncertain, but with all her strength she asked in a high-pitched tone, "Viskyia? What is this?"

[Viskyia Crow]

As blood and the fate of roosters go, having a friend like Amelia Lynsdaughter who routinely talked to the dead tended to numb one to the shock of seeing perfectly well-groomed and turned out young women do their Adjuratorist art and routinely end up covered in blood. Besides, Viskyia's duty here wasn't to actually participate. Amy was the Seer and in some regards, the healer of the dead. Viskyia's role here was of protector, and so she stood, devoid of her mourning white attire, instead dressed in functional sturdy old dark clothing, and watched within the protective confines of the salt circle. The half-esh was armed to the teeth... daggers, both fighting and throwing, and her body well-warmed up in her artform, flexible and ready in case there was any trouble.

And there was nothing... or no one that would make her exit it before it was time.

That being said, she reached down into the bundle of necessary items that Amy had packed into the circle, and pulled forth one of the vials of vision water. She opened it, drank the contents, and replaced it with the others, for Amy to refill later. Then she stood watching, as her friends words echoed through the empty square. She knew they would come. Amelia had no idea how many, but Viskyia assumed the dead here were thick, and restless. They probably all wanted to talk. It was Amelia's gift... talking to the dead, persuading them, helping them to see.

What she did not expect, though she was ready for it, was the living to step from the bushes as a sort of Vanguard to the dead. It took Viskyia only a moment to recognize Adelyn, and even less time to react. She reached down, grabbed a second vial of vision water, and at the same time said softly to Amelia... "Can we get her in here? Thats Adelyn Weiss, a Moonstar... and the Assistant Aedile. Big trouble, Amy... big trouble. She doesn't deserve the full force of what I expect to come either."

Then turning, she repeated the motion Amy had done with the corpse of the rooster, and tossed the vial to Adelyn, hoping she'd catch it. "Adelyn, catch! Drink that... and don't move for a moment. You're in grave danger." Viskyia said, unwilling to step from the circle, yet unwilling to leave Adeyln out there.

[Striker]

The winds moaned amidst the night sky as the three women set about their individual courses; one determined to conjure forth ghosts of the past; another intent on providing the necessary support; and finally the last having inadvertently stumbled across the abandoned plot of land. Encompassing the ritual site was a wall of rubble piled nearly two men high, arranged in a rectangular formation that suggested that its’ former shell had been relatively large. Wooden boards, planks, and materials of all sorts and sizes could be discerned amongst the amalgamated wreckage, though the magnitude of the devastation made it impossible to determine its previous form and purpose.

For now, though, it would become a house of the dead.

Aside the sound of the rooster’s unceremonious landing beside the bowls of Ambrosia, nothing save the howling spring air triggered the auditory receptors of the three women’s ears. Viskyia’s warning to Adelyn, and it was exactly that, was all that would interrupt the tense silence of the outdoors before another noise erupted through the air: it was a moan.

Before the intricately crafted circle, a voice, soft in frequency, resounded about the decimated walls of the skeletal building. It paused, however, before another identical moan tickled the ears of the three women anticipating women. The sound was young in nature, seemingly that of a child’s. A few seconds elapsed before a great chorus of murmurs and whispers joined in unity, gradually amalgamating into a wondrous song rising powerfully in the air. Strangely, though, the sources of the noises were not visually present despite the utilized components that would normally enable Amelia and Viskyia to perceive them.

Several long moments passed…

“Who are you…”

The voice came from the side of the defensive circle, directly beside the bowls of Ambrosia normally utilized to attract the ghosts or spirits of the fallen. If the three women were to turn, they would have no difficultly spotting the spectral form of a young girl. Raggedy in appearance, the apparition emitted an eerie bluish light –though whether or not the glow was coming from its torn, oversized shirt or its body was a matter that the women would have to ascertain for themselves. Nevertheless, the child was not even above Amelia’s waist. Her tresses were long and black, falling well past her shoulders onto her backside.

Her eyes, nothing more than misty gray pupils, stared unwaveringly at the one who had summoned her. “Who are you…” Emotionless and wintry, the question assailed the three women again. As the apparition stepped away from the food offerings, it came to a standstill a few feet away from the intangible wall surrounding the abjurer and her friend. And as she raised her small head to regard the three older women, her flowing locks tumbled back to reveal an unmistakable laceration across her throat – the brand of her arrival to the afterlife.

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

Amelia had never believed in luck, mostly because she had been raised as a Vagaran, and to them there was no such thing as randomness. Every occurrence in the world was an omen, a sign of the higher powers speaking to them. In her case, given the string of negative events in her life, the girl had taken to suspecting that the gods found it amusing to see her struggle against what they sent her way. Oh yes, Amelia was very unpopular in Aetheria - and given that she would never become an Aeternian, all she had left was Materna of the Hearth. The witch startled upon seeing Adelyn come out of the woodwork, bloodied knife still in her hand. Her blue eyes shone with surprise at first, then a flicker of hesitation, and finally the resolve of a professional.

Things got even worse when Viskyia informed her that she knew the young woman in question as Adelyn Weiss. Amelia produced a white handkerchief embroidened with her monogram and wiped her mouth clean before addressing the other two women. "If someone steps inside the circle, it will stop working and I will have to redo the seal," she said, "which may take a while. Take this instead." She reached down and grabbed the bag with the rest of the salt, throwing it out of the circle and at Adelyn. "Pour it around yourself and leave no openings if you wish to live."

This was bad, the half-elf considered grimly. The ritual proper had not begun yet and already things were not going according to plan. She sighed softly and looked at Vis as if telling her not to step out of the circle. She knew the half-Esh may be tempted to, but it would be a major mistake to do so; a lesson that the girl had learnt the hard way, and one that had led to her being possessed by her father's ghost. Amelia tended to be quite rigid in her line of work now. She knew that sloppiness killed Adjurators - they all had died save for the best - and she was not feeling particularly inclined to join those ranks. Chances were, with all the unfinished business she had, she would become a ghost herself.

Then it started picking up. "Auditory response not matched by visual manifestation," she commented under her breath. She was not expert enough to be at ease, but neither was she so inept to let herself be scared so easily. Her enhanced eyes, which did not need Vision Water anymore after the horrors of Glossalia, roamed the enclosed space for signs of ghostly activity. They were... singing, singing like she'd never heard before. Even one who had been hugged by a rotting corpse could not help but shiver a little at the sound of it all. She pointed the knife down, letting out a deep breath and knowing that if the circle was attacked, she would have to make a new one with the strongest protective material - her own blood.

There was a child. This was not the first time Amelia dealt with children, and she knew they were extremely unpredictable, even more so than the average ghost. "We need to find out whether she's just a spokeperson or a gestalt for all the other ghosts," the girl whispered, not really thinking about explaining what a gestalt was. The Adjurator straightened her back and prepared to address the ghost. Shiandi's first lesson crossed her mind for an instant.

"... To adjure is to command, to appeal to someone. Which is what we do. We can never bend any spirits to our will, like the necromancers and their foul ilk can. We can never force the minds of others like Mystics. We do our work through our tools, we can bind them, we can make deals with them, we can argue and we can fight them. But we can never force them. We know the secret rules, thus we can do things no others can. That is our big secret..."

"I am called Amelia, daughter of Lyn, daughter of Adel," she responded slowly, chestnut locks dancing unrestrained in the wind as her pink lips moved, "and I am a spirit guide. We have come to set you free from these chains of sorrow."

"...At the beginning of creation was He, some call him Ioannes, some have other names. As the old world died, he was the final survivor. He was the last survivor of the Final Battle, so he endeavoured to make anew what had been destroyed. He wished to make it better. To remove Chaos from the people of the world. And so he made that which your people call the Egg, reality. And in order for it to be perfectly ordered, he knew that all things needed names. These names he gave to everything. Aelyrians, bears, humans, they all had names. This he demanded of his people. But the world was not without chaos..."

She allowed some time for the others to make their introductions and added, "What is your name, child?" She studied her wound for a second or two, but left it at that for the time being and just waited for a reaction, praying to Materna that her companions did not get strange ideas they may then regret.

[Z'kron]

Always walking into the strangest things...
That said, the druid was something of an incurable busybody at times. The merest sniff of the arcane, and he would be off like a stag after a she-doe. So it wasn't surprising that he tended to walk into arcane or supernatural situations almost automatically nowadays.
The first he heard this time though, was the whistling of wind and the squawking of roosters. Nothing to indicate the arcane. Nothing unusual at all. But the druid still stopped, for no particular reason. And there is was. A moan. Not just the wind. But a moan.
His weight shifted from foot to foot. Investigate? Or not. Curiosity versus pragmatism. A moments thought at most, before, as usual, curiosity took full control; his feet dragging their way into the abandoned plot of land and to the back of the room which he would now forever consider "the ghost room".
And he looked at the ghosts, and he blinked. And was silent, standing alone with his carrot in his hand, which absentmindedly crept up to his mouth for a hefty bite.
Just watching.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia turned slowly, letting her citrine eyes leave Adelyn Weiss for a time. It was her hope the woman would follow Amelia's instructions... exactly. If she didn't, she'd likely end up dead. But Viskyia was pragmatic about things. People didn't wander the streets of a place like Paxia without knowing something of their own mortality. Hopefully Adelyn had a reason... Viskyia could only hope it was not a wish for death, but a restlessness of spirit. That, the jeweler understood well enough. She spent her free time jogging the streets of Nexus to keep up her health. It was, after all, one of the reasons she'd learned her artform so well. There was nothing like a beautiful young woman on her own to target for robbery, rape or death. Adelyn would know this... and either seek it or have a method to resist it if she was out on her own.

So Viskyia turned her attention to the newest arrivals, the spirits. Her wide yellow eyes took in Amelia's introduction and lack of fear. The Vagaran was cautious, tense even, but Viskyia couldn't feel any fear rolling off her friend. That was a good sign. And so she looked further, out to where the spirit was, and softly added her own introduction. "I am Viskyia Crow, Warrior Poet and cutter of gems." She said, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly, using Amelia's words for her, not her own. "We gather here to help you, because you are lost and blowing like leaves in the wind, no longer having a purpose or intention, like you did once, while alive. Listen to her, to Amelia. She can indeed help you." She added, her voice firm and persuasive.

As for any other folks joining them that evening, Viskyia wouldn't initially notice. She was too focused on first of all, the spirits. Then Amelia, then Adelyn. There was just too much going on.

[Adelyn Weiss]

Viskyia had caught Adelyn by surprise and with a gasp the young woman took a step forward to enable her to catch the vial she was instructed to drink. The vial nearly hit the floor, having had too little time to react, but Adelyn's hands touched the soft dirt, scraping her hands very slightly. Though Viskyia had told her not to move she had to drink the vial. Her heart beat rapidly and for an instant she could hardly uncork the vial for her hands shook violently. Adelyn truly had no idea what she had walked in on, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know at this very instant. Without hesitation, but with difficulty Adelyn drunk the contents of the vial. Its taste was lost on her as she was so focused on what she could now see and her mouth went dry.

The woman with the knife in hand yelled out instructions towards Adelyn, though she had just barely understood them. A package of salt was thrown at her. Adelyn immediately dropped the vial onto the ground and got the salt. From her recollection of Amelia's words she needed to encircle herself in the salt. Her hand was shaky and definitely unsteady, but Adelyn tried with all her might to create a circle with the salt, making sure not to leave any openings. The other woman had said she would not live - or there was definite danger - should she leave the circle open. The last thing Adelyn wanted was to have a cause of death that read "Stupidity." The remainder of the salt Adelyn kept in the package inside her circle should Amelia need it back.

A strange moan startled Adelyn just as she had finished creating the circle. She looked up and saw nothing at first, only heard the moan. Moments later an apparition appeared before them in the form of a small child, a girl. The ghost asked who they were and after letting Viskyia and Amelia introduce themselves Adelyn interjected, "I am Adelyn Weiss, of House Moonstar, and Aedile to Paxia."

Adelyn had no words to add to the other womens' as she was too shocked to really take in what was happening. The only she could do was place her trust in both of these women and do as they told her or at the very least look on at what was happening. She was afraid, confused, and very cold. Her long brown hair waved in the wind and the moment felt very picturesque, like it wasn't real - but it was. Adelyn had made sure to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't just a strange dream.

A small crunch was heard behind her and at first all she could see was an orange object floating midair. Adelyn did not bother to ask their name or look too closely at them because she didn't know if it was another ghost. Instead, she refocused on the situation at hand, which was currently the spirit that hung translucently a ways away from her.

[Striker]

“I-I am…” the girl’s tiny lips parted in a discernible quiver, laboring for words that failed to be articulated. Her pale visage, eternally innocent, was devoid of the cognizance normally stamped upon the faces of the living. In death, perhaps, she had been stripped of her memories, destined to wander a mirthless path of eternal purposelessness. For several minutes her gray pupils remained fixated upon the three women; no words, however, came forth until the arrival of a northern zephyr, pervading the openness of the abandoned building from the northern sea, churned and howled throughout the night sky.

“I-I do not know…” came the long-anticipated reply. Staring helplessly to the earthen floor, the ghost seemed apathetic to the arrival of Adelyn and Z’kron, both of whom unknowingly were parading into a most critical and potentially deadly affair. Luckily for the pair, though, the translucent spirit did not appear to harbor any ill-sentiments towards them.

Kneeling beside the ambrosia, Viskyia and Amelia would immediately note the lack of concern on the apparition’s features. The ghost-girl moved with a fluidity that suggested transcendence beyond the normal capacities of the living; her diminutive physique, emitting an eerie sapphire hue in the wake of her movements, was not bound by any physical laws of motion. Stepping through the bowls of the food, the ghost paced away from the safeguarded Adjurer and the self-proclaimed Warrior Poet to stand at the skeletal archway of what might have been regally decorated at one point in the building’s history.

It was now nothing more than a charred gateway composed of nearly disintegrated wooden planks.

The irritating silence continued for another handful of minutes before the girl steered her gaze back to the onlookers. They would notice, however, that she was no longer staring at them: she was looking over their shoulders…

Behind the three women and the dracon, a chorus of moans erupted into the sinister skyline, the likes of which no longer reflected the silver light of the stars. Sometime during the ordeal, even the moon itself had become hidden behind a curtain of black painted across the dreary heavens. Little could be distinguished amidst the lightless realm save the small flames dancing atop the wicks of the adjurer’s candles and the ghastly glow emanating from the young ghost – and then of course the brilliant halo of sinister blue situated at the backs of the four individuals.

A multitude of forms, appalling and dreadful in nature, stood at the back of the wall-less building. Huddled close together, the congregation of spirits, dozens and dozens of children, trembled and quivered beneath the shadowy sky. Some were tall and some were short, some were boys and some were girls, but all of them bore traces of the horrors of war. Emaciated and mutilated, many of the children had carried wounds into the afterlife; one child was with an axe wedged into its chest; another’s head had partially been severed at the neck and was subsequently resting on its shoulder; there were children without legs, arms, and chest cavities. One boy’s ribcage had been split open; his heart and lungs gruesomely exposed before the very eyes of the living.

And there were other children who were wholesome in appearance, though even their pale-blue cheeks were ashen and charred – death by suffocation or fire.

Gracefully and smoothly, the hordes of spirits gradually encircled around the women and dracon. Dozens of small hands reached forward to revel near the warmth of living flesh, though none came into contact of the three cautious women. Z’kron, however, unprotected as he was, would feel the icy sensations of death tickle at the scales of his skin even before contact. Tiny hands continued to reach for him…

“You are not like us…” came the voice from the girl at the archway, the first ghost that had appeared. Despite her tone which sounded like something from the grave, she almost seemed confused by her own statement. “You are not like them” She said again, and at the mentioning of them, the other ghosts seemed to noticeably cringe in palpable fear. One small boy whose frail torso housed the tip of a spear, leaped frantically behind the ethereal form of a taller, withered girl.

[Amelia Lynsdaughter]

Amelia's face remained stoic as the events unfolded before her eyes, blue pools taking in the horror that was the ruins of Paxia. Sure, these were children, and their fate had been horrible - a heart-wrenching sight to say the least. A part of the witch's heart did indeed feel incredibly saddened that the gods had allowed such a folly to take place in the world. No matter how badly life had hurt and battered her, there were those, assembled around them, who had been stripped of life altogether. Children who would taste nothing of life but the reflection of it that they saw in the living.

But there was another part of Amelia who had learnt lessons the hard way... and one of those lessons involved not letting her personal feelings get in the way of a life-and-death situation. She had almost died more than once because her heart had hesitated when it should have not, or conversely because her wounded soul had reacted out of instinct when reasoning would have been necessary. The half-elf knew better now, and she felt responsible for Viskyia - and strangely enough, for Adelyn to a degree (she barely realized that Z'kron was there). It was not only about her anymore.

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them, she was no longer seeing a group of mutilated children - no, she was seeing a group of potentially lethal ghosts, their young judgment clouded by death and loneliness. And no circle was unbreakable. "Yes... we are different, and yet we are not..." she spoke softly but with no traces of submission about her voice. Dealing with ghosts was often a psychological battle in which appearing weak could be much worse than actually being weak. "What we have, you have lost. You are frozen in your tragedy, and need to move on. I would like to be your guide. My companions and I will help you remember who you are."

She turned her head to see how the others were faring. She remembered exactly how frosty a ghost's touch could be - she carried one inside her, after all. These entities were not malicious, but could still prove dangerous. Now fully realizing that there was another person here who was unprotected, Amelia silently wondered why this corner of Paxia just had to be so popular tonight. So she asked the fateful question.

"Are they still here?"

Because if they were, Amelia and her companions' troubles had only just begun.

[Viskyia Crow]

ooc: I'm going to go ahead and post since no one else seems to be.

Viskyia studied the visage of the little ones, saddened beyond belief that such tragedy had touched the smallest most innocent lives of Paxia. War spared no one, it seemed. Yet she wondered, as she stared transfixed half in horror half in curiosity, if any leader or warmonger could witness this scene ... if any other wars ever would be waged. The younglings could be any of their children. They were all ages, and the ways they died were hidious, cruel... bringing tears to Viskyia's eyes. The half-esh jeweler hadn't known she'd react like this, hadn't known there was such softness inside her hard angry heart. She swallowed, and raged at herself to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks. The chastisement was for all the times that Viskyia had told herself how rough her childhood had been... how unfair. All of it paled in comparison to what these children had suffered, what had been done to them in whomever's name. Did anyone really know why Paxia was destroyed? Rumors abounded. There was a madman, Temujin had told her himself a single mage had done it.. he'd witnessed it and lived. He'd also told her that the orcs had been the lesser of the evils...

She knew now he'd been right. This, before them, was the greatest of evils done to the greatest of innocents... and she mourned their passing. Before she left Paxia, she'd stop and talk to the gateguard again.

And then the child's words hit her. They weren't like them.. no of course not.. they lived. But then, more words came, and Viskyia grew even more alarmed. They weren't like THEM either? She wondered at the fear on the ghosts face, and too at what the fear entailed.

Her mourning ended then and there. It simply ended. And the jeweler... the one who was secretly a warrior as well, drew herself up even further, began to circle the circle... vigilant, watchful, determined to keep Amelia safe.

[Z'kron]

OOC: Just a heads up, I'm in elven form. *points at sig*
IC:
Life. They wanted warm, living sensations. And he was loathe to deny it to them. They looked so cold. But he would warm these children later.. he would find a way to break the cold.
Carefully, the druid stepped towards the women- being most cautious of all not to disturb the circle of salt. Salt. How peculiar. A barrier against spirits- well, he supposed that made sense, it was often quoted in folktales, and folktales were often filled with grains of truth. Being a druid and a mage, he knew well the dangers of breaking a protective circle. He himself had dealt with spirits in times past- though now such as these. And who were these two "them"s that were mentioned? Hunters and hunted? The cringes told something of that nature- but this was all far beyond his experience. He was no necromancer.
"We must warm them somehow. They deserve as much. Or free theme." His voice was somber, still. Like a graveyard. Then, abruptly, a grin crossed his face, posing a question that he obviously did not expect to be answered.
"Oh. I'm Z'kron. Pleased to meet you. This your usual line of work?"

[Striker]

Ghastly, ethereal hands retracted from the intangible circle arranged around the adjurer and the jeweler. Repelled by the unknown force, each of the ghostly children’s faces contorted confusedly as they instinctively backed away, fearing the incalculable powers of the one who had summoned them to materialization. For several long and tense seconds they fixed their lifeless stares upon the two women and the magically guised dracon, seemingly oblivious to the honorable intentions that the trio harbored for their group.

“You cannot guide us where we need to go…” the raven-haired girl languidly replied to Amelia. Her misty gray eyes, devoid of emotion, returned to the vacant archway where she had been standing minutes ago. Her flowing tresses, radiating a sapphire hue that identified her as a spirit, did not flow despite the chilly zephyrs incoming from the northern sea. In fact, if Amelia, Viskyia, and Z’kron were to pay stringent attention, they would realize that nothing about the concrete world, not nature, not the elements, had the slightest effect upon them.

“We are the children of the night…” she continued to explain, her voice failing to rise in pitch or tone. As if the rest was obvious, the young girl ebbed towards the front of the emaciated building in silence. When she turned her head to regard the living newcomers again, though, there was something discernibly different about her eyes; they were flecked with palpable fear.

No time for questions presented itself as a peculiar howl pierced through the air. The clamorous cry bore a semblance to a wolf’s, but far more terrible and foreboding in nature. The sound continued to resonate in the night air for a prolonged moment before suddenly dying and returning the atmosphere to desolate silence.

Meanwhile, the other children began to shriek in their places, cowering fearfully together and raising their measly arms and hands over their heads as if to fend away the noise. Some of them even retreated to the back of the open-walled room, crouching low in hopes that the shadows of the night would camouflage them from view. Nothing, though, could diminish the eerie blue light that each of them emitted.

“They are already here...” the girl, the only one who had spoken thus far, responded again. Inching from the doorway, she set her torpid eyes warily upon the three warm-blooded mortals. No warning came from her lips, not even a considerate suggestion of what was soon to come.

No matter. They would find out soon enough.

A chorus of growls and snarls reached a magnificent crescendo in the forthcoming minutes, a song of the greatest malice and promising terror beyond the perimeter of the abandoned building. From their vantage point it was impossible to see what was coming from beyond the front doorway, but there was the unmistakable presence of blue light filtering through the opening and into the sights of the mortals. The shadows of the shapes projected upon the floor, now made available because of the presence of the cerulean light, were large and wide and jagged. Most peculiar of all, though, was the fact that there were dozens of them.

And was it their imagination…but did the ground seem to tremble beneath their feet?